Loud and Clear
by a. loquita
Summary: An Adelaide fic. (Do I really need to say more!)


Title: Loud and Clear  
Fandom: Doctor Blake Mysteries  
Pairing: Jean/Lucien  
Summary: An Adelaide fic.  
A/N: Thanks for the beta, the fun conversations, and your patience with me, Gabolange. I appreciate it all.

* * *

"Now, is that all?" Jean asks.

She looks at Lucien so expectantly that he does a double take, wondering if it's a simple query or a loaded one. They are alone in her hotel room and she is packed and set to leave for Adelaide. For a short time or forever, he doesn't know; he hasn't worked up the courage to ask. The answer will hurt either way.

Before Lucien can respond to her, they're interrupted by a knock at the door. The phone message the bellman delivers from the station means Lucien must be on his way immediately. He tells Jean this as he reads, and then looks up from the scribbled note. The last time they will see each other before she goes is being cut short, and Jean's expression is not one Lucien expects. There's something raw and longing and desperate in her brief reaction, before she schools it away and stands to clear the teacups.

It stops him stock-still. She's…? No, she can't be.

Can she?

Jean leaving her beloved home in Ballarat to move to Adelaide never made sense to him. He figured she had a good reason for it, even if for the life of him he couldn't work it out. At best, he speculated that Jean wanted to be part of her son's life and involved with the new baby and that mattered more than anything, or anyone, in Ballarat. At worse, he wondered if she was running away from him and taking the convenient excuse. But Lucien realizes that maybe he's made all sorts of incorrect assumptions these last weeks.

"I have to go," he says, the paradox of that statement not lost on him.

Jean hasn't said a word. She's still tidying up, and yet little unusual clues are starting to sink in. There have been times recently when she seemed to be stalling or possibly vacillating over her choices, and to top it off she's invited him into her hotel room this afternoon. It's a situation he would expect Jean to worry over. It can be misconstrued and used as ammunition to fuel the way people talk inappropriately about their relationship, especially when there's a perfectly acceptable dining room downstairs serving tea. No, there's more here than Lucien has understood until this moment.

Maybe Jean doesn't want to leave? It's a question he hasn't entertained before. He desperately wants her to stay. He also knows he doesn't have a right to ask her to stay. Although, a funny little thought forms – there's another way round, isn't there? He could come with, just to accompany her to make sure she safely arrives at her destination of course. A gesture, as it were.

"Buy a second ticket for me, will you please?" he asks. "I'll pick you up and take you to the bus stop, we'll go together."

He knows for sure he's missed something. He can't get it straight in his head right now, and there isn't time to draw it out of Jean. But Lucien uneasily admits to himself they shouldn't have left it this long. They need to sort it out between them, about Jean's true reasons for her behavior of late, her decision to leave Ballarat, and a bus on the way to Adelaide is suddenly as good a place as any to do just that.

"But, Lucien–"

"Look, I have to run right now. But I will be there, I promise. It's a long trip and will afford us plenty of time to talk. There are…" He takes a breath, deciding there is no turning back, and says, "There are things I've been meaning to say to you."

* * *

Lucien's palms are itchy. He rubs them together, then drops them into his lap again, empty and idle. He longs for something to do with his hands, to be in there with the technicians running lab tests, or with the doctors saving a life, or to reach for Jean beside him, anything.

He's not good at being idle. His greatest desire is to pull Jean into his arms again like he did on the bus. Was that hours ago or yesterday? Time has stretched so slowly that it feels like forever since the bus pulled away and left Ballarat. Jean leaned her weight against him as he held her, and she squeezed his hand in return. Lucien had high hopes for whispered confessions during that bus ride. But Jean hushed him, not wanting them to risk being overheard, and he understood.

But she did allow him a cuddle, and then drifted to sleep against his shoulder during the ride, and it was another new sign. They were adding up fast now, now that he's finally woken up and started paying attention. He knows he tends to get distracted, and the mystery surrounding his mother's murder was one of the biggest emotional distractions of recent years he's dealt with, but in retrospect, he feels foolish about his narrow vision and how he's been acting. How many signals from Jean has he missed during these last weeks? How about all those moments he was having difficulty reading her, and just left it alone? He let fears of rejection and that she deserved better lead to avoidance.

Yes, rightly so, he's the fool. A fool who appears to be granted another chance. Holding Jean felt glorious, and like it could be enough, at least for a while. Until they arrived in Adelaide and found some quiet, then the words would surely come, from both of them. They'd iron this out. The signs were adding up to something wonderful, but words needed to be said eventually.

And then they arrived at Christopher Jr's doorway and everything else fell away.

Lucien isn't sure what precisely is wrong with Ruby, he has several suspicions, none of which he will voice to Jean or Christopher Jr. But he saw and knew enough in that moment to rush her to the base hospital, and the baby too just for good measure. Now they sit and wait for word of which of his suspicions are correct: the best one, the bad one, or the very bad one.

His hands itch to be helping, but it's not his hospital and he has to leave it to other doctors to do their work. He can't even reach for Jean here, knowing that would be pushing things too far too fast, especially in front of her son. He senses that she's not ready for that yet and it's not appropriate in the middle of an emergency. But he still longs for it.

Idle is not good for Lucien, not at all. An update from the hospital staff, a nurse, anyone, that's tangible action. Lucien stands to seek someone out, leaving Jean seated in the uncomfortable chairs with Christopher. The waiting area is only an alcove in the corridor anyway, he can keep a sightline on her while he seeks news.

He starts to ask a nurse about Ruby, only getting her name out before he notices from the corner of his eye that Jean's entire posture has changed. She's been holding chin up through all this so far, of course she has, she's always been good at that. But it seems Christopher has said something to his mother and it has dissolved her. Tears spring and she's frantically searching around in her pockets and her purse.

Lucien's heart swells, he knows this woman well and with every passing moment with her, he finds he loves her more. He knows that she's looking for a tissue and apparently hasn't got one, he leaves the nurse behind taking the length of the corridor in long strides to get to Jean as fast as he can.

Lucien pulls out his handkerchief and hands it to her.

"Thank you," Christopher says to him. Jean is busy blotting her eyes.

Christopher has been a mix of exposed emotions since this crisis started. Certainly, the concern for his wife and daughter has been foremost, but Lucien sees this young man is also flummoxed by his mother's crying. Lucien's sympathy goes out to Christopher standing strong in this. But also wonders if Jean has played her own strong side so well in front of her sons all these years that they've never seen her in tears. He can well imagine Jean in that little farmhouse, her husband gone, waiting until her boys are fast asleep in their beds before escaping to her room to let go and grieve.

Lucien has no idea what Christopher must have said to cause Jean's mask to slip. But he makes a silent promise to himself that once this ordeal is through, he will spill his heart out. He will gladly offer to take up the job of her one and only, who will always dry her tears and replace them with smiles, if only she'll have him. If she rejects him, at least they both will know. But his confidence is growing that she won't.

"Any update?" Jean looks up at Lucien. He'd almost forgotten what his mission was a moment ago.

"Not as yet," he says, though he never got an answer. He drops into the seat next to Jean's, her tears are gone, and she tucks the handkerchief away in her pocket. Lucien hides a smile at yet another signal of their connection. Jean knows she doesn't have to bother asking to keep it.

* * *

Jean is tired, so tired of praying, of worrying, even of smelling hospital disinfectant. It's all she can do to stay focused on the words the Army doctor is saying as he finishes his update. Christopher Jr heads down the hallway to finally see his wife and daughter, now that the situation has stabilized. Lucien opens his arms to Jean, and she doesn't hesitate to go to him. She doesn't care that they are in the middle of a busy hospital corridor.

"Ruby is going to be all right," Lucien says, reiterating the Army doctor.

But Jean understands that she almost wasn't. Ruby apparently told the doctors for weeks after delivery about her pain, and they wrote it off as the typical struggles of a new mother.

During these long hours of waiting, it was all Jean could do to keep pushing back on pesky thoughts. What if Lucien hadn't accompanied her to Adelaide? What if he wasn't such a good doctor who noticed upon arrival that something seemed wrong with Ruby beyond the usual particulars of post-partum recovery? If he hadn't rushed them to hospital immediately, insisted upon further exams, they may not have found the large infected cyst and her fever dangerously high. There may not have been time to perform surgery to save her life. It's a relief, and she must stop herself from dwelling on these tense thoughts.

"I'm so glad you came, Lucien," Jean says. For so many reasons. When they first arrived at Christopher Jr's doorstep, she was preoccupied with how to explain Lucien's presence. How silly a concern like that seems now, after everything that has happened. Jean allows herself to just breathe, and it feels like the first time she's had a deep breath in the last 17 hours, or maybe in the last 17 years.

"Why don't we get you back to your hotel," Lucien finally says, and that's when Jean recognizes she is exhausted. If he wasn't holding her, she wouldn't stay on her feet. A cup of tea and a warm bed sound wonderful, but she's reluctant to give up her hold of him.

"Yes," she replies, but doesn't move. Her head is nestled against Lucien near the knot of his tie, his hands are rubbing slow, soothing circles on her back, and this is not something they do but feels like it's where she belongs in the world. It is exactly the sort of moment she kept waiting for these last several weeks. Some sign to help her make the unbearable choices she didn't want to face, at least not alone.

He whispers against the curls in her hair, "I'm not going anywhere, Jean."

It's enough to get them moving. They head to the hotel where she'd made a reservation, and the establishment has one last vacancy to give Lucien as well. They share tea in her room because sitting with him in a hotel room drinking tea is a thing they do now, apparently. They don't say much as they finish. He does kiss her hand before heading to his own room down the hall for the night.

Jean closes the door behind him, absently rubbing the spot on the back of her hand where his lips were pressed a minute earlier. She catches herself and moves to the dressing table, beginning her familiar bedtime routine.

The moment Christopher Jr rang to ask her to come to Ballarat because Ruby was struggling, Jean knew she would come. Jean wanted to appear as if she were thinking it over, but she knew. She understands the guilt she carries when it comes to her boys is a strong motivator, that doesn't mean it's easy to accept. She spent weeks convincing herself that the decision was best for everyone involved.

She loves her home in Ballarat, and quite a while ago in the hushed middle of the night when she couldn't sleep, she admitted to herself that she also loves a singular man living there. For a time, she thought Lucien might be showing signs that he shared her feelings beyond mere affection and friendship too. It was equal parts frightening and thrilling. Then he became obsessed with his mother's death and excluded Jean from the emotional journey of it, and it not only hurt but caused confusion. The thought of leaving him and their home behind also stung, but not nearly as much as the fact that he didn't bother to ask her to consider staying.

Jean changes into her nightgown and turns down the blanket, wondering if Lucien is already asleep in his room down the hall. Despite all they've been through for months, it really feels they've arrived at a turning point. It's not one big moment, but a series of small ones, very recently, all tentative steps that seem to be changing course. He baked her scones. They spent an entire bus ride holding hands and not caring who might see. Well, caring a little but not too terribly much. The hug at the hospital, the kiss on her hand, the looks they've shared. Their connection is stronger, steadier, more special than it's ever been.

Her son saw another example of how she and Lucien make such an effective team, as soon as they arrived at Christopher's base housing they had to fly into action to deal with an emergency and supported him during the long wait at the hospital. He almost lost his wife. Jean doesn't need another reminder of how precious life is, how quickly one can lose everything that matters most. She doesn't want her son to experience losing a spouse at a young age, like the path she had to walk. But in the midst of that being a real possibility, when Lucien went to check with the staff for another update, Christopher Jr took the time to turn to her. "Mum, I'm very glad that you have Lucien in your life. He's so good to you, and to all of us." That's when she couldn't hold back the tears any longer. Even her son can see it, this thing she worried was one-sided, and that she and Lucien won't name.

Jean switches off the bedside lamp and she settles in, clutching a pillow against herself. She has struggled with harsh realities: duty to her family versus her hidden desires for man that sometimes felt reciprocated and other times ignored, the weight of her deceased husband's wedding band on her finger when she could take it off and at long last begin anew. Those issues are still there. But a shift has begun to taken place, and this time she doesn't doubt it, worry that it's only in her head. What is it Lucien once said to her? That life can turn on a single decision, and he boarded that bus with her.

Jean allows herself tonight to feel what she hasn't in a long time, her heart fills with hope. It's time for her to find the courage to go after a life she truly wants.

* * *

"Yes, it is a fine day," Jean agrees.

Lucien sighs.

It would be an even better day if they could get beyond talking about the weather. He knows the general topics he wants to broach. But how to put it into the right words, in the right order, to not jump to any conclusions or scare her off? It's all so much more complex than Lucien remembers. Didn't he have an easy time courting girls in his youth? Wasn't he once accused of being shamelessly charming? It was a lifetime ago, and it looks as if he's forgotten.

So here they are again, on another walk together, while Ruby and the baby nap at home, and Christopher Jr is working. This time alone with Jean should be the celebrated start of a new beginning. As they walk further down the sandy footpath, distant church bells ring out, startling a flock of birds that take flight from the pond. Despite the tranquil setting, Lucien is growing frustrated with himself and it must show on his face or in his manner because Jean stops short.

"Is everything alright, Lucien?"

The expression on her face, the way she's searching him for signals, is so richly familiar. They could be at home in the kitchen in this moment: Jean in one of her aprons, a hand on her hip, demanding an answer from him because she can. Lucien can't help it; he loves her so very much.

It's not as right as it could be, and maybe that's why he does what he does next. Lucien wraps his hands around her upper arms and he steps closer while tugging her slightly into him, and then that's where his surge of bravery ends, with his lips a breath away from hers. Lucien's concerns make him halt, wondering again if this is a big mistake, that he's being far too brash and bold, much too soon, or he's somehow read all of this terribly wrong and is offending her.

Jean, his steady, straightforward Jean, makes the decision for them. She crosses that final gap, miniscule in distance but gaping in meaning. Jean's lips touch his ever so slightly, testing. She's soft and careful, his Jean, and it's making everything in his body come alive. He can't hold back now, not now that he's been granted this opportunity, his fears suddenly rendered foolish again, and so he takes it. He runs his tongue along her lower lip.

There's a low sound from Jean, perhaps of surprise or appreciation, and then she's melting into him, opening her mouth to him to deepen their kiss. His hands move around her, as she grabs hold of the lapels of his coat. Lucien hopes that's a good sign, that he's making her unsteady.

Lucien isn't sure how long they kiss over and over, there on the walking path around a pond somewhere in Adelaide. It seems like it's forever although it's doubtless only a few minutes. He has no idea of the world around him or the ticks of the hands on his watch, there's only her. His sweet Jean, responsive and hungry, wanting him as much as he wants her. It's beyond his every wish.

Finally, they break apart, but he still holds her close. It's probably a good thing that she sets her head against his chest, not only is he quickly learning how wonderful it feels, it means she can't see what he assumes is a ridiculously proud and pleased smile on his face.

Perhaps talking is overrated. They seem to be communicating just fine now.

* * *

It's been a complicated week, but despite a near tragedy, it's also turned out to be a time that Jean will look back on fondly. She's trying to focus on the positive while accompanying Lucien to the train station, and not on how long it might be before she sees him again. There's a vague plan in place, but part of it depends on how much longer it will take for Ruby to fully recover. She's fast improving, but Jean wants to demonstrate to both Ruby and Christopher Jr that she's here for them when they need her most. Besides, she is looking forward to spending a little more time bonding with her delightful new granddaughter.

However, Jean will return to Ballarat and she will be back in her home at some point, only now everything will be different. The 'different' part is clearer than when she left Ballarat, but not entirely worked out. They haven't even discussed whether to keep the news of their budding romance just between the two of them for a while or tell other people right away, let alone a myriad of other details. She's incandescently happy, and maybe that's why she can't bring herself to care overly much about all those details just yet.

"I'll ring you when I get home," Lucien says, and it snaps Jean out of her reflections.

"Good," she smiles. Unless she rings him on the telephone first, because she can't wait to simply hear his voice. He ducks his head, meeting her eyes and returns her smile knowingly, as if he has read her thoughts. Oh yes, they are certainly different now.

"You keep me posted on Ruby," he says. "If she needs anything else and thinks the base doctors aren't treating her properly, you let me know. I will come right back."

"Everything will be fine now, I'm sure." But Jean's heart skips. He cares for her so much that he cares for her family too, that is a side point she didn't understand until this trip. One of several welcome new revelations. "Everything is better."

"Yes, it is." He grins wide and gives her hand a quick squeeze. "Come home as soon as you can."

"I promise." She leans in and gives Lucien one last kiss on his cheek as the train pulls into the station.


End file.
